Jeremy snatched the small wooden boy from between the gentle pads of her fingertips, cawing out a childish laugh as he held it just out of her desperate reach, swinging left and right toward open air with a pang in her stomach. “Give me my man back, Jeremy. Give it back!” Her please echoed throughout the entrance of the gate, skidded footsteps of gravel dancing forth and backward between the two sets of fighting limbs. Jeremy’s fingers mercilessly lifted each of the nut crackers arms up as if in some sort of beg unto the heavens. “You are trapped in your head, Sophie.” Jeremy dryly replied, heels paused against the stone, their hasted breaths leaving their dimpled lips winded. He dangled the small toy from his fore finger and thumb, mouth curling down in cynical disgust. “This… is not a man. I hear you talking to him at night, Sophie,” a step forward landed him a few inches just before her nose, “Beneath your goose feather, you think me and the others can’t hear you but we can, speaking of how you’re to run away with June, how the others just don’t understand.” his voice dripped lowly as of sap struggling down mangled birch, “You ask to hear his heart, we all hear you Sophie,” his prodding continued, his words weighing thickly, spaced to linger in the dry silence of the autumn wood surrounding them. “Flutter, flutter, I hear you…” he mimicked, oozing false warmth from his tone, “Where is it now Sophie?” Knuckles white, he trapped the toy curled within his palm, lifting it for his ear to cup, eyes wandering off to focus expectantly in the distance. A slow swallow trudged down Sophie’s throat, her cheeks heating wildly of fuchsia, her sorrow drowned eyes meeting with the nut cracker’s. “I hear no heart, because this is a toy. A wooden toy, Sophie.” His palm opened, the nut cracker lying senselessly upon the grounds of it’s fleshy center. “No man. No running.” his words buzzed, “No heart.” His palm extended toward her, and with brief hesitation she met her own with it, delicately taking back the nut cracker into the harbor of her own hold, taking a last glance up as Jeremy, heavily-footed, made his way toward the home. A tear tread along the apple of her cheek, sniffling in a quiet breath of despair. Cradling the nut cracker in the curve of her fingers, her thumb pressed in against it’s dense chest, the pressure of her own heart beat muffling between her skin and it’s own. “Don’t worry,” she crooned, blue eyed opaque sights, “I hear you.”

Why do I never quite understand. Everything just lingers a fucking inch past my finger tips and leaves me in complete chaos, just suspended in confusion. Nothing but numb confusion. I don’t want your clues I don’t want your hints, I need the flat line truth I need it to be told mercilessly, without hesitation and without a second thought. Tear me apart wound my seams, sharpen my edge and heighten the drop, just don’t leave me to suffoacte. I need to be told selfishly. Why can I never get it. Why can I never understand. Why can I never give myself closure even when it’s placed right in the palm of my hands?

I am completely spent of energy. Like it’s all being consumed just to get myself to fall asleep at night. Just to shut my eyes. Everything requires more effort than I can even begin to give. I don’t even have the energy to keep the pain cornered in my chest anymore. My whole body is just evenly pulsing with it, at least nowhere in particular stands out. At least no one part of me hurts more than the other. I don’t know where I’m going. And it’s difficult to believe you’re going anywhere near somewhere with endless fates and possibilities when you can’t feel it ahead of you, all you can do is trust that that somewhere is indeed somewhere, blindly, without any feeling at all, without any guide, without structure and without plans. All spontaneously. All I can do is keep doing whatever it is that I’m doing, for however long it takes, to get to wherever it is I am going. 

One couldn’t imagine the chill you’ve trudged through, lonesome, your ankles gnawed by the snow piled along each mile. All the while on your way home to me. Hurried through the front door our limbs couldn’t tangle quickly enough, my palms soothing your cherried cheeks, thumbs hooked within the shadows of your jaw. My mouth would catch the erratic huffs desperation urged from your throat, nipping at my chin, moist and plush lower lips just lightly greeting one another, drag against my touch. Gasps, suddenly. Knit sweater folded amongst itself at my heels, spine arching, slowly arching arching in line aligning with your fingers foreign tip, lingering downward lower hips thigh rush into contact gripped to warmth, cling grasp breathless lust. Let your breath cascade along my chest, the heat the stir we’re wove my lips shivering a murmur along your ear you’re home, you’re here, you’re home, dear but it’s cold, you shudder, it’s cold, you tremble. You’re withered, my love, why’ve you stayed out so long? You promised you’d be gone no longer than an instance. Tongues glide, whisper, sigh, winters come… December sixteenth tastes of your skin.

10:47 16 December 2010


I remember how smoothly you navigated the roads with your hand in mine all the while, and occasionally your other would reach to lye on top of our twine and then it was my turn and we were out of hands. Some nights we’d reach my street and a silence would settle in the cab. Not now. I would watch the light struggling it’s life on my front porch fade into the background, your foot teasing the petal. You’d ask me if I was in a rush, your sunken eyes gloomed while my mind hummed. I’d stare. Time is nothing, our knuckles are pale, curled. It was July 9th. It was then. I live in July.

10:17 12 December 2010


There is a wind stream within the depth of my mind.
Do not rush me, slip along my tongue if you must but exhale thoughtfully,
if you will.

2:08 2 December 2010


Heel and arch sunken into blinding snow, knee bent and lifted slowly… toe dipped into the crisp lake rippling back the couplet of our limbs. A gasp cracks my lips, introduced by your whisper, our gazes drowned before us. How do we look? Your breath trickled against my blushed cheek, I blinked, glancing up as a wintry smile created an edge to my lips. In love.

10:10 28 November 2010


Follow within my sheets
Chest flushed cheeks cherried blushed in lust with fingers still twisted within my damp strands, our bodies willed to the bed willing to rest now, that we’ve had one another. Drooped eye lids and toneless promises murmured from set to set of lips raw and moist, savored flesh where your mouth marked here and there there below beneath, you cover me skin brushed heat silent swallows, your breath will put me to sleep.

1:24 22 November 2010


Your presence populates this dim silent bedroom of mine as I sit against this headboard I watch you roll up your sleeves as you pace towards me, the mattress gives beneath you and I within a gasp to a grunt we were wove and your upper lip curled satisfaction and I am we are burrowed beneath he sheets in awe in faith can you feel my breath? You’d pull them up between our noses and let the edge of that faded blue cotton nestle a wall between us and you’d introduce us with that hum to soothe me off and I sang. Our tones muffled between the fabric strewn against the half moon beneath my lashes and after we exchanged beams you’d shake your head you’d sigh, your body deflates your shoulders flex your eyes absorbing my crescents and you’d ask can’t you feel my breath? At this point you were still and consumed and one such as I could not fathom the lacing being composed intricate keys minors naturals natural we were I did my best always to stray close behind I feel the poppy seeds between my toes click, between your eyes they’d twitch from note slurred to note and your brow furrowed while you shifted eyes to sheet and touch to breath and moments later your lips took gape and you’d whisper Azure. Your fingers would lift each at their own pace delicate thoughtfully step by step and then nose lips chin were exposed and there was my chance to inhale exhale mouths to mouth. Can’t you feel my breath?

1:57 11 November 2010

(don’t pay any mind, this is just to have my writings from my personal in which I  no longer use all collected onto this blog here, otherwise I feel in a disaster of disorganization) 

I miss you even as you’re laced between my legs, forearm cushioned beneath the bed of my cheek. Skin draped to the tip of my chin. This wooden frame of hushed little comforts will nestle you to me, for the thirty nine nights left of your unforgivable winter are said to be longest. Keep out the chill, please, keep me warm. Keep me warm. I am only asking that you keep me warm.

I can feel the pressure swelling my chest again just when I thought I’d been given the chance to breathe just once lightly, just once if I’m lucky but this whole process this whole pain can interrupt me whenever it’d like to and it’s so fucking wearing. All of the color within my cheeks is drained absent and lost just pooled beneath my eyes my fingers won’t ease everything is tugging and everything is disagreeing. I slouch myself into my bed when I’m finally exhausted enough for splotches and deep breaths to substitute for closed eyelids I finally get the chance to sink into some sort of comfort and you’re there again breathing in my ear you’re there again perched on my headboard you’re there again warming my chilled ankles you’re here doing exactly what you’ve taken away from me and I don’t want you to go but I don’t want you to stay I don’t want to sleep with a withering love in a weathered bed with a sickly mind you’re thick and you’re reluctant. How are you able to manage all of these sly slips here and there just a second too soon for me to notice how do the hours so heavily anticipated turn to dread and a sickening clench and a tense tongue and how, please I am asking how did it turn out that we loved so differently? Because I haven’t the slightest idea. You’ve left me clueless, enraged, distraught. You’ve left me helpless. You’ve left me. Isn’t that enough?

Trill your tongue with mine and let the winter graze between our teeth, drape the pale slopes of my ribs with your breath and tell me everything of which we define. Mounts of warmth, pearl weighted pines wet and chilled along limbs knotted on cotton hills. Ever rest our love.

I could sit and revel in this pain for an endless amount of time. I am dissecting it for absolutely every ounce of feel it holds, I am tearing through the displaced lacing pulled from me mercilessly and I am both understanding and raging within it to depths I would have never thought attainable. I am terrified of it yet it’s something I cannot and would not take myself away from, not if it means a complete loss. I will sit with it. I will sleep beside it. I will walk atop it, but I refuse to seep beneath. I can manage to keep it alive through thought, as cruel and unyielding as they may thread together, they remain. Everything remains, even within the loss. Disastrous, I am. I am I am I am.

I buy books on impulse simply for comfort reasons. Whenever I am anxiety ridden do not bring me near a bookstore, unless (I guess) of course you wanted to soothe me. I will run my fingers across the spines of those books, catch a brief thought of one that is (or has been forever) on my list of oh I would really love to devour that novel, and it will be mine. I am telling you by the time I am near thirty I will have more books than friends. Total. Throughout my entire life. Or how about total people I’ve ever approached (aka none because I’m too socially behind). Today’s catch: Eat Pray Love. I don’t have the money for this, but oh lord have I been in need of a book such as this. I certainly have the time.